The other view from the other Hunter
by Sage Collar
Summary: Meg is no ordinary con, she's a Hunter. After a few years under the radar, she decides to visit two old friends, Neal Caffrey and Mozzie. Along with this crazy adventure, Meg's picked up a tail that might just be more than another old 'friend'.


**Hey everybody, this is my first time writing a story and I would really appreciate some feedback!**

**Hope you enjoy this White Collar twist!**

**From the _Sage_ Collar**

* * *

><p>Chapter 1: Old Friends, New Friends<p>

I never knew what life would be like moving back to New York. I've spent my whole life on the run, and then again that's normal for a con artist. I didn't have to, but when running heists all over Europe, it's better to keep one of the lowest profiles possible by not staying in one place.

When I was only two months old, my parents died in a car accident. My sister was forced to take care of me at 15. We were supposed to be in foster care, but who would want that. We hit the street and developed sources. The last thing Alex would want to do is raise me though. Yes, my sister is the infamous Alex Hunter and I'm Margaret August (Meg) Hunter.

When I was eight, my sister left me for a heist and never returned. Before my thoughts of her being dead, she wrote me, of course, without a return address. So, I was stuck to fend for myself, luckily I met the strangest, most paranoid man on earth, Mozzie. He taught me more tricks of the trade than Alex.

After finally meeting the best, Neal Caffrey, he knew I had potential to become the top because I was a Hunter. He showed me how to forge documents and paintings and I'm trying not to brag, but man am I awesome! I finally heard word of a big opportunity to swap a Van Gough; I tried to pull a heist, but no one wanted to listen to a nine year old. Caffrey was up to help and I became a part of the conning system. After two months of cons, Caffrey left his stupid girlfriend, Kate, and met my sister for a heist in Copenhagen.

Moz had some something going on and once again I was alone. Finally, Caffrey came back, but I, 10, couldn't make contact. I found out his plan to find Kate and from there, I watched the closest thing I had to family (without counting Alex) get put in jail for four years. I decided to get off the streets; on my tenth birthday, I grabbed some money from my various 1 billion dollar bank accounts and flew to Italy.

I found a hacker, Caden Jay there. His parents were killed and with no family left, he parted with the foster system and headed into the con business at 16. We hooked up a team with the French Olivie (Olivia) Rivas, 19, and her friend Abelard (Abe) Schmidt, 17, from Germany. For the next four and a half years, we kept running heists all over Europe and one in Japan. I guess you can say that's how I learned 14 different languages and thanks to a random guy, three ways to kill a man with my bare hands (not that I would use them). Oh, and I learned karate, sword fighting, how to parachute, fly a plane, and play chess. Wait, I also learned a few amazing culinary skills from Caden's buddy Luciano, an amazing chef who owns his own restaurant.

After a while, and me now 15, I heard word that Caffrey made a deal with an FBI agent, Peter Burke (remind me to read his file like . . . tomorrow!) and is released into their custody. I decided to jump back on the radar and fly to New York to check him out (I wonder if Alex knows this? I haven't exactly seen her in five or six years). Caden wanted to come to America too, so he convinced the rest of the team to join us. This was going to be quite an experience, even though I have sources here. I mean an Italian, French, German, and Britt are going to have some problems keeping a down low (did I mention I developed a British accent?).

So here I am; we decided to split and find our own places to live and meet in Central Park at 2200 hours. I'm just wondering how this whole, new life is going to work out.

. . . . .

Its 1043 hours and none of my sources have contacted me. I need to find out where Caffrey is. I'm supposed to wait by the Central Park fountain, so why not do a little 'shopping' while I wait.

I scan the area for my target, a suit (Moz got me hooked on saying 'suit' for all business types). Tall, brown eyes, probably thirties; I start to make my way over, brush up and smoothly slip my two fingers in his pocket grabbing his wallet. My newly 'bought' high heel boots scrap the ground.

"Excuse me," I say, not making eye contact. If there's one thing I know, guilt comes through eye contact.

He just looks at me funny and continues on his walk. I'm about to hit my next target, when I spot a bald, short man dropping a business card in another woman's pocket, Moz.

Without missing a beat I casually walk over to the woman heading perpendicular to me. As I get closer, I see someone watching me, so I smoothly turn, pick up a newspaper from a nearby stand and sit down at a bench. I carefully fold the newspaper and start to walk leaving nothing wind behind me.

I slightly turn my head to see where the woman is. _Shoot!_ She's starting to walk across the street. I carefully slip into the crowd of people crossing, being careful to watch the woman's red hair. I suddenly stop knowing I'm missing a tail; he's nowhere in sight. _Bad or good, that was way too easy. I'm just paranoid._

I carefully pick up my pace, brushing up and geting the card:

FBI office-10:53

_Of course, he only gave me four minutes to find an FBI office, and Mozzie, FBI; WHAT? _I think to myself.

At 1054 hours I make it to what I hope is an FBI office. _Good, there's Moz. _

"I saw a mocking bird in the park today," Mozzie says leaning against the building.

I slowly walk by and lean next to him. "What color was the mocking bird?"

"You're late."

"Sorry to burst your bubble."

We stand looking into the crowd for a while, but in unison, we start walking. "So how's Monday?" I ask sounding as if his weird living places are normal to most people.

. . . . .

"We're here," he says, totally ignoring my question, although I should have noticed he wasn't going to answer it in the last 20 minutes. We stop at a nice little house. Mozzie opens the gate and knocks on the door.

A petite African American woman with beautiful hair, flawless skin-even for her age, and a very cute sweater, opens the door. "Ah, Mozzie, nice to see you again. Please, do come in."

"Thanks June, but I was just bringing over a friend to meet you. She's looking for Neal." Mozzie replies apparently knowing this nice woman, June.

"Alright, well won't you come in," she says nodding in my direction. I step into her lovely home and nod at Moz as a thanks.

"Bye, Mozzie," June yells after him, who just waves.

"Now," June closes the door, "who might you be? Any friend of Mozzie's is a friend of mine."

Feeling already close to her, I say, "Margaret Hunter, Meg, and you must be June. I apologize for intruding."

"Not a problem Margaret. I believe I've heard Mozzie mention you before. Well, Neal's not home yet, so why don't you have a seat. I just made a batch of scones and a cup of tea, would you like some?"

"Yes, please, I just got off a long flight from London. I bet you can tell that though." Considering my British accent and her facial expression, I know it crossed her mind.

"Yes, yes I can. So, how do you know Neal?"

After she told me about Neal's arrangement and her late husband, I guess she was once part of the system too. Of course knowing her life, I had to explain my too.

. . . . .

After about two hours of talking, I told her about my need for a place to stay. June was nice enough to suggest her house. Then again, I do feel safe here and plus, I get my so called big brother back; I still told her she didn't have to. I'm definitely glad she insisted though because I don't think I could find a better place.

I decided to take a look around when she started to make a late lunch. Her house is so beautiful. There are so many pictures, comfy furniture, and the upstairs is perfect. She showed me guest room across the hall from Caffrey's, but she said if he allowed me, I could stay in the other small bedroom in the loft.

I decided to slip into the loft before Caffrey comes home, and then go pick up my baggage from my old storage area where I stashed it. This place is so perfect and the view is amazing! I already know Caffrey won't mind me living here. The only thing I'm wondering is what's in store for my life from here on out?

"So, what do you think?"


End file.
